A Russian No.4 Copy

It seems that no matter where in the world you look, if a company set out to make metal bench planes, a copy of the ubiquitous Stanley No.4 was sure to appear in the lineup. The Voskov Tool Plant of the former USSR was no exception.

From what I’ve seen on eBay and Facebook Marketplace, quite a few of these planes must have made their way to Australia. They appear regularly for sale—or at least attempts at sale—suggesting they were imported in some numbers during the late Soviet period.

A Plane in Its Box

The example in my collection came complete in its original cardboard box, which is a rarity in itself. Conveniently, the box carries a stamped date: 11/08/88. That places it towards the end of the known production period for Russian bench planes, which ran mainly through the 1970s and 1980s.

First Impressions

At first glance, the Russian No.4 looks remarkably similar to its Stanley counterpart. On closer inspection, though, there are some striking differences:

  • Casting & Sole: The body is a noticeably heavier casting than a Stanley. The sole and sides are reasonably well ground, though not perfectly flat. Checking with a straight-edge revealed two high points—one just behind the mouth and another at the tail. Across the sole, a slight hollow runs the full length. Interestingly, the cross gusset behind the front knob sits further forward of the mouth than on a Stanley.
  • Mouth Opening: The mouth measures 6mm wide, a touch larger than the 5mm on my Stanley No.4.
  • Knob & Tote: Both are made from very dark stained hardwood. The tote follows the familiar Stanley curve but is slimmer, with the horn set at a noticeably higher angle.
  • The Frog: Perhaps the most distinctive difference—the frog is made of aluminium rather than cast iron. Adjustment mechanisms otherwise follow the Stanley pattern.
  • Blade Assembly: The blade, chip breaker, and lever cap are all made from blackened steel, giving a starkly utilitarian look.
  • Markings: Identifiers are minimal—“USSR” stamped on the lever cap, and a “B” within two diamonds cast into the body just ahead of the tote.
Complete With Instructions

One of the more surprising elements of this plane is the paperwork it came with. Alongside the box, I also found the original instruction brochure. Even more impressively, it was printed in both Russian and English.

The manual included:

  • a detailed schematic of the plane,
  • guidance on preparing it for use out of the box,
  • instructions for adjusting the blade and chip breaker,
  • and advice for maintaining blade sharpness.
Final Thoughts

I haven’t yet put this plane to work, so I can’t comment on its performance against a Stanley. But as an artefact, it’s a fascinating window into Soviet industry’s approach to Western tool design.

The heavier casting, aluminium frog, and stark blackened fittings make it unmistakably Russian—yet its lineage is clear. This was the USSR’s take on the world’s most famous smoother, the No.4.


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